


Ineffable Sorrow

by G33k3tta



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-27 00:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/G33k3tta/pseuds/G33k3tta
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley team up to save the world once more, but can they work through their personal issues in time?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CelestialBiscuitClub_Becky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialBiscuitClub_Becky/gifts).

~1~

**Present Day - Kennington, London**. 

Aziraphale glanced up from his crossword. It was not, he supposed, all that surprising to see Crowley here. After all, he had made a habit of popping up, even before the _ almost- _apocalypse. Now, with everything they had been through, he certainly popped up more often. Or he had, for a while. 

Aziraphale also supposed he didn't really mind so much. 

"Aziraphale!" Crowley sauntered towards him, looking to all the world as if it was as much a surprise to him as it was to anyone that they should be in the same small cafe in Kennington. "How the devil are you old chap?" 

Aziraphale gave Crowley a tight, half-smile as he sank into the chair opposite him. All arms and legs, Crowley seemed to fill the space around him. 

_ No, _ Aziraphale thought. _It's not just that he is so… lanky. It's his whole being, it just takes up so much space._

"Am I to believe this is a coincidence, my dear friend?" 

"Always straight to business Aziraphale, honestly. You'd think you would lighten up, since we saved the world and all." 

"I am perfectly _ light _ thank you very much." Aziraphale huffed. He folded his newspaper and set it on the table, before setting his pen on top of it, with a small adjustment to ensure it was centred. 

"Fine. Would you care to join me for a spot of tea?"

Crowley grinned. "Thought you'd never ask!" 

*

Tea served, cakes eaten, waistcoat unbuttoned, Crowley thought Aziraphale looked a little, not much, but a little, more relaxed. That was good, because Crowley had news. 

"I have news." He slurped at his tea, knowing his poor table manners would irritate his oldest friend, enemy… something else? Something more? He shrugged off the internal question. Probably not anything, not now. "From my lot." 

"Still 'your lot' then are they?" 

"No. Yes, look you know what I mean. They weren't happy with how things turned out." 

"I don't suppose either side were happy with how things turned out. Although I do imagine it was somewhat of an _ embarrassment _ for satan, having his son reject him like that." 

"They're planning something Aziraphale. I don't know what it is, but you know it won't be good for us." 

"Nothing is, when either side start making plans."

Crowley leaned back into his chair and reflexively adjusted his sunglasses. He took a moment to watch Aziraphale, who was picking at his eighth cake. They'd been through a lot together. Over the last 6 millennia for certain, but especially over the last few years. Since the _ almost- _ apocalypse, he had found himself seeking out Aziraphale more and more often, craving the company of this stuffy, impossible little angel. They'd always enjoyed their little off-again on-again friendship, but it seemed _ more _ now. Or at least it did to Crowley. He wondered for a second if Aziraphale felt the same. Then he shook it off. Crowley knew he didn't feel the same. That had been abundantly clear.

"Look it's probably nothing, but I've heard whispers. About that boy we spent so much time with, Warlock." 

"Wasted time. What about him? If you'll remember, we completely and utterly failed, given the fact he wasn't the real anti-christ. Good thing too, if you ask me, I was beginning to worry you had more of an affect on him anyway, something seemed a bit... off with him all along, not a good child at heart…"

"Aziraphale, shut up for a second will you, and listen." 

"There was nothing special about him, Crowley."

"Sure, he wasn't the anti-christ, as we were expecting, but as you said, he wasn't _ good _. He was exactly as we had expected the anti-christ to be." 

"I am certain I don't know what your point is."

"They have _ plans _for him." 

At that, Aziraphale sat up a little straighter. 

"What plans?" 

"Well, I don't know. I'm not exactly inner circle, after, everything. But it's sure to cause upset to the nice little status quo we have going here. I think we should investigate." 

Aziraphale stared. "You mean, together?" 

"Well yeah."

"But you said…"

"I know what I said."

"After the last time we saw each other…"

"Yes, Aziraphale, I was there." 

"You've been gone for months…not even so much as a postcard." 

"Well, it was a bit awkward, with what happened between us… you know. Plus, laying low and all that. Look, if you don't want to…" 

"I didn't say that! I-" Aziraphale took a deep breath, and stopped himself from saying something he couldn't un-say. He knew Crowley had regrets. 

Crowley stood up. "I'll send you the details, you can come if you want." He seemed to sway like a branch in the wind as he walked to the door. Aziraphale tried not to stare. As he reached the threshold, Crowley turned once more and dipped his glasses, giving Aziraphale a snake-eyed glance filled with uncharacteristic vulnerability. 

"I hope you will." And then he was gone. 


	2. Chapter 2

~2~

**A.Z. Fell & Co, Soho, London**

Aziraphale found the postcard on top of a large pile of books he had left stacked haphazardly on his desk. On the front was a picture of the Washington Monument. The reverse held only a date for two days hence, and a time; 1.30pm.

_ Well, I did ask for a postcard _ . 

Aziraphale sighed. He would be there, of course. He would be wherever Crowley wanted him to be. Still, it was hard for him to picture Warlock as any real kind of threat. He had no supernatural gifts, nothing remarkable, beyond a mean streak that Aziraphale had been unable to coax out of him. 

He thought briefly of trying to find Crowley, to seek him out before Washington, to try and understand what had happened that last evening they had spent together.  _ No. Bad idea. Not like I could even work up the courage to mention it.  _

A loud knock at the door tore him away from his thoughts. 

"We're not open!" Aziraphale shouted, aghast someone would actually try to buy a book from him, especially at this hour. 

Another knock. Now getting thoroughly ticked off, Aziraphale started towards the entrance, ready to tell this  _ prospective customer  _ just how he was feeling. 

"I _said _we're not_-" _ A colossal crash cut him off. The space where his door had previously been was now empty, excepting the foot of a particularly vile demon. 

"Oh flip." Aziraphale turned on his heel to make for the back room of his shop, but Hastur's giant hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Aziraphaaaale" Hastur's raspy drawl froze him to the spot. He sucked in a lung full of air, set his shoulders and turned to face the demon. 

"Hastur! What an…  _ unexpected  _ pleasure! Are you in the market for a new bedtime read?" Aziraphale forced a smile, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

"Don't act coy with me, Principality" Hastur spat. "I'm here for your  _ boyfriend."  _

"I'm quite sure I have no idea what you mean." 

Hastur grabbed a handful of Aziraphale's shirt, hoisting him up and off the floor until the demon's face was inches from his. "You know exactly what I mean." He smiled widely, showing each and every rotting tooth in his mouth.

"You tell him I'm looking for him." Aziraphale could feel the demon's acrid breath surround him, flecks of spittle landing on his cheeks. He led out a small squeal, terror flooding his body.

Without warning, he found himself sailing through the air, landing with an undignified crash amongst the remnants of his front door. Trembling, he took a few deep breaths, eyes squeezed shut. When he finally found the courage to look up, Hastur was gone. 

"Oh good" he smiled, and promptly fainted.

*

"Damn you Angel, wake up!" 

"Hmmm? No, I don't think I will, thank you. I am having the most wonderful dream" 

"Aziraphale I swear to Satan…" Crowley's voice trailed off. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale squinted, gently opening one eye. "Is that you?" Realising that had been a bad idea, he closed his eye once more.

"Who else would it be?" The relief in Crowley's voice was palpable. When he had found the bookshop door missing, and Aziraphale in a heap, he had feared the worst. 

"You were in my dream" 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? This  _ wonderful  _ dream you were having?" 

A flush of colour rushed to Aziraphale's cheeks. "Shhhh, you're ruining it." 

"Okay Angel." Ever so gently, Crowley slid his arms under Aziraphale, picking him up and cradling him to his chest. "You rest. I've got you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 to follow!


	3. Chapter 3

~3~

**Crowley's flat, Mayfair, London**

When he woke for the second time, it was dark. That was the first of three things Aziraphale noticed.

"Crowley?"

The second thing was that he was in an unfamiliar bed. 

"Crowley? Where in the heavens am I?"

The final thing he noticed, much to his surprise, was that he was naked from the waist up. 

"Crowley! What have you done with-" 

"Your clothes?" The bedroom door opened. A red tuft of hair followed by a giant grin popped into view, framed with light from the hallway. 

"This is highly inappropriate! I should not be half naked in a demon's presence!" 

"Well that's me all over, inappropriate eh? Don't get your waistcoat in a twist, angel. Just thought I'd better get the blood stains out before they set. Cream is an awful colour to be wearing if you're going to go around bleeding everywhere." 

"You didn't wash them yourself did you?! That jacket is dry-clean only-" 

"I'm a  _ demon _ . Just  _ poofed _ it out, didn't I? Don't tell me you actually go to a dry cleaner."

"One cannot simply perform miracles all willy nilly. Crowley - am I in your bed? And what do you mean blood? I'm not bleeding am I?" But as he said it, Aziraphale became acutely aware of a dull ache in the back of his skull. Gingerly he raised a hand to his head, finding a crudely wrapped bandage in place. 

"Did you-  _ take care of me?"  _

Crowley took a tentative step into the room. "Well, what was I supposed to do? Leave you there, cuddled up to the remnants of your front door?" His voice suggested a levity that Crowley hadn't felt at all since he found Aziraphale. The stink of Hastur was still thick in the air when he arrived at the bookshop, and Crowley knew that this was all his fault. He would have never forgiven himself if his angel had been seriously hurt because of his recklessness. 

_ His Angel.  _ No. Definitely not his. But while Aziraphale had been unconscious it had been easy to pretend he was caring for a lover after a heavy night out. Gently easing him out of his jacket, waistcoat and shirt, settling him into bed… Crowley shook himself. No use dwelling. 

He took another step towards the bed, letting the door swing open. Light from the hallway illuminated Aziraphale's silhouette, propped up on an elbow, bear shoulder and chest visible. Crowley swallowed, his voice cracking. "Cup of tea?"

*

Shirt restored, Aziraphale followed the path Crowley had taken out of the bedroom and walked slowly down a narrow corridor into a bright and spacious living room. He perched on the edge of a white leather sofa, watching Crowley dart around the kitchen through a door on the opposite wall. 

"Hastur is looking for you." 

The demon entered carrying a black tray stacked with cups, biscuits and a sleek, black teapot. With the end of a Viennese whirl sticking out of his mouth, he mumbled something that sounded like agreement. 

"I don't suppose you have any idea why he would think you might be in my bookshop?" Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. There had been a brief period just after the  _ almost _ -apocalypse where Crowley may well have been in his bookshop on any given evening.

"Well I guess they know we're friends now." Crowley had put down the tea and relieved his mouth of half the biscuit. 

"Is that what we are?" A sudden wave of courage washed over Aziraphale. Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he thought. "Friends?" 

Crowley had the sudden urge to stuff his mouth full of biscuit again. "Aren't we?"

"Crowley I…" The bravery was leaving as quickly as it arrived. Aziraphale grasped to the final wisps. His voice faltered, now almost a whisper. "I  _ missed  _ you." He stressed the word, trying desperately to pour all his longing into it. 

Crowley said nothing. It was not that he didn't want to say something, a thousand things came to his tongue, each worse than the last. How could he put his feelings - feelings he had denied even to himself for so long, into words. He sank down onto the sofa, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. 

Abruptly, Aziraphale's body language changed. He drew himself up and off the sofa, almost hugging himself. 

_ Fuck. I left it too long.  _

"Aziraphale wait-" 

"No Crowley. Don't bother. I think I'll be going now." He turned and marched towards the door, retrieving his waistcoat and jacket from the sideboard where they had been neatly folded.

"I'll see you in Washington." He didn't turn back as he left. 

If he had, Crowley would have seen a single tear roll down his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~ Thank you for reading! New chapters to follow very shortly ~~


End file.
